Wasted
by TheSharkBait
Summary: When Kid is slowly wasting away, what will Soul do to help him? Based off of Lamiadarkholm's Imperfect.


**A while ago I posted something based off of LamiaDarkHolms 'Imperfect' because I loved it so much, I made a few changes, and I hope you enjoy it.**

You think I don't notice you getting up in the middle of the night.

You think I can't hear you walk into the bathroom, turn on the water, and start your nightly 'ritual'.

But I can.

I can hear your coughing, gagging, and retching. I can hear your dinner hit our porcelain sink and swirl into the drain.

I know what you do. You try to hide it, but I know.

And every night, it breaks my heart.

How could you do this? _Why_ would you do this? You think you're just giant mass of useless flesh, but in reality, you're tiny and scrawny.

You think I never see what you do to yourself every night. Silent tears fall from my eyes as you walk back into our room and quietly slip into bed as if nothing had happened.

You never see that I am wide awake. You never see my waterty crimson eyes watch your chest slowly rise and fall. You never realize I can hear everything you do to yourself.

In the morning when I wake up, I see you pinching at nonexistent fat while looking at yourself in the mirror. You sob while you speak of how large you are. This time, you are the one that's wrong. Oh so very, very wrong.

You're so skinny and fragile, your bones jut out for everyone to see. Everyone but you.

All you see is fat.

Then, after you see I'm awake, you put on your little façade. You smile and greet me, like nothing is wrong.

How are you so oblivious to your condition?

Your skin is so cold, and every time I hold your hand, I feel like I'm grabbing at an ice cube. A melting, shrinking ice cube. Not to mention, whenever I touch you, I can feel every bone underneath that once beautiful, pale skin.

If I even mention a doctor, you freak out and lock yourself in your room, yelling that you don't have a problem.

But oh, contraire, you do have a problem. A very, very large one at that.

Can't you see, Kid?

Everyone misses the old you. Now you're just the shell of the boy who used to be so fun, powerful, and determined.

Now it seems the only thin you're determined about is losing the weight you've lost a long while ago.

You won't even go out anymore. You're just a prisoner of your own self-conscious cell.

Our friends haven't seen you in a while. They would be so shocked how much it had taken over your life.

I sit you down at our dining room table and tell you I'm giving you a surprise. You sit there, excited, as I walk away and call Tsubaki.

"Hello?" Tsubaki answers in her sweet voice.

"Hey, I-uh, I'm bringing Kid to the hospital. Get the others."

"Right!" She hung up, and with that, I walk back over to you. You're sitting straight, beaming, wondering what the special occasion is. I can hear a faint humming. Walking closer I can hear the short melody, and I instantly recognize it. That short little tune.

I wrote it for you.

You notice me coming toward you and smile the smile. The smile that says everything Is going to be all right. I know it's not.

I pat your back, cringing as I feel every bone, and help you up. I help you exit the house and get your fragile frame into the car.

You don't suspect a thing.

I cover your eyes with my hand as we near the Death City hospital** (What a reassuring name) **so you won't realize what I'm about to do. I can't help but feel guilty. This is for the best, right? _Right?_

As I ark the car in the nearly empty lot, I tie my deep red handkerchief around your head so I can use my other hand and we walk in together. Liz, Patty, Black*Star, Tsubaki, Maka, and Soul are already sitting in the waiting room. I see their stunned features as you walk in beside me, still grinning. I walk over to Liz with you and whisper, "I'll check him in. _Don't_ let him leave." She nods, her dirty blond hair bouncing, and grabs your tiny hand as I walk up to reception.

I could tell the others couldn't help but stare at your horrendous figure. You are pale-deathly pale- your dark black hair had been graying, your face had sunken in, and your bones are sticking out everywhere, making your entire body look sickly.

The all exchange worried glances.

A nurse walks over to the group with me, smiling. His light brown hair looks unkempt, as it he was in a hurry and didn't have time to brush it.

I look back over to you once again. You are nice, happy, and calm until you hear those eight words.

Then you freak.

"Please follow me into the Eating Disorder Ward."

That sets you off.

You rip the blindfold off and run.

It takes almost all of us to overpower you. Still squirming and shouting, the doctors carry you through the swinging double doors and into the ward.

I finally get to come back to see you. When I walk into the bustling hospital, it's almost impossible to find your room. When I get to it, I see you hooked up to an IV and you're sleeping soundly. God, you look so sick. Why did you think this was good for you?

Standing there in the doorway, I can only think back. Three days ago, when I dropped you off, the nurse with the shaggy brown hair came up to me after you were taken in. He told me how much you weighed. Only four or five stone, I don't remember. I blocked the number from my mind when I heard it.

Then the nurse patted me on the back and thanked me, saying you only had a few weeks to live. It should've made me happy, I'd saved you. But instead, it sent me spiraling down. I let this happen to you, so long, you almost died. I should've brought you in sooner.

I sit in one of the small pink chairs in the room and wait for you to wake up.

I just sit there, in this small, cold room, and I watch you, trapped in that hospital bed, being forced to put on the weight you so desperately fought to lose, thinking this was for the best. Hoping this was for the best. What I'd done was right, but still unsure if this was…_right_.


End file.
